


The Series of Three

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Bad wooing, Cases of some Manipulation, Developing Relationship, Dorms, Felix is an asshole like usual and Tucker feels the blunt force of it, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Multi, Pictures, Polyamory, Strangers to Lovers, The "Creep The Cashier Out" Game, Wooing, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weird shit always come in threes. Tucker's just happy that these three assholes aren't trying to woo him. Though... maybe he shouldn't throw them at Wash though... <br/>Naahh!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Series of Three

**Author's Note:**

> Started this so long ago, forgot about it, found it and forgot basic plot line that wasn't just "that damn cashier game". That was legit just it. That's all it was, then it turned into this.   
> I... I don't even...

_Boop. Boop. Boop._

Not everyone had exciting part-time jobs, but money was money and Wash couldn’t fight the need for spending money when groceries were needing to be bought. His scholarship saw to his tuition being paid but he was living in a three person dorm suite with separate bedrooms and a built in kitchen and bathroom—a guy needed to be able to make his own food without worrying that his roommate would eat him out of his room.

_Boop. Boop. Boop._

“That would be seventy-sixty five,” Wash smiled tiredly at the woman pulling out her credit card. The night dragged on, one person sent out after the other with a big fake smile plastered on his face as he greeted and bid them farewell. When he gets home he’d have to write so more of his research paper, maybe even make a late night dinner.

And that’s when three familiar guys strolled through his check out with only three objects. It was later; it had to be close to ten as the smallest of the three males placed...

A rope... a cucumber... and 50 Shades of Gray...

...on to his belt and he raised a brow at the objects. A horror gripping in his gut even as he asked if they’d like a bag or not; they opted for one.

 

**WEEK ONE:**

“Tucker,” Felix slide into the seat beside him as the man made his way to his own job off campus. “You’re rooming with the freckled blond dude right?” His skinny jean covered legs adorned with a large collection of patches and small artistically placed tears stretched out into the aisle knocking against some guy’s leg with his big Doc Martin’s.

Tucker flipped the hood of his hoodie over his dreads as he tried to distance himself from the punk as much as possible, “there’s a lot of blond and freckled people. I’ve slept with a few—”

“You’ve only slept with one chick and you knocked her up. We went to the same high school Lavernius,” oh Tucker was well aware of that fact. He wanted to ­ _forget_ that whole part of his life that he knew Felix Andrada (and in extension Locus Reyes). He had thought the guy a friend, trusted him only to get fucked over by him and the rest of the school (well, most of the school save for like a handful of people) when his girlfriend at the time got pregnant over his horrible stupid mistake.

She didn’t end on keeping the kid but still.

“You don’t know the life that I lead now, Felix.” Tucker couldn’t help but hiss and glare at the man sitting beside him. He hadn’t seen the guy for all of first year and suddenly he was _everywhere_ ; him, Locus, and some guy that the jocks and some frat guys would call Sharkface. “What do you want, Felix? Just tell me so I can get rid of you again.” He sighed rubbing his hand over his face. This was the last thing he wanted to do before his six hour shift.

“That blond; hell of a lot of freckles, gray-blue eyes... that English major you’re rooming with.” Tucker snapped his attention back to Felix. “His name’s David Washington right?” Oh shit— _oh shit_. Tucker knew exactly where this was going; either Felix or Locus was showing interest in Wash (it was most always Felix).

Tucker wanted his seat to just swallow him whole—just gulp him down and spit him out in another country. Felix and Locus were _exactly_ Washington’s type.

“What’s his shift like this week?”

And they knew where he worked and most likely already started some big plan to _woo_ him—oh lord Wash wouldn’t know what hit him.

Felix wiggled his phone under Tucker’s noise, unlocked and open to the calendar and Tucker did what he _knew_ he shouldn’t. He was willing to have Wash take one for the team if it meant that Tucker was freed from Felix (and in extension Locus and all their friends’ friend) for another year.

Tucker took Felix’s phone and punched in the blond’s work hours for that week before handing it back to the prick wrapped in skin tight clothes and leather. There was nothing more Tucker wanted to do than punch that too wide grin from Felix’s face as he mumbled the times in his calendar.

Felix slinked off the seat, patting Tucker’s arm. “Thanks man,” he winked pulling the aviators from the top of his head and back over his eyes, “it was nice talking with you again. Actually try to get laid, yeah? Gotta walk the walk.”

He slipped out and off the bus before Tucker could shout something poison enriched back to him. His styled head of hair walking down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away, Tucker could spot the phone in his hand that he slowly brought to his ear. He could only assume that he was calling Locus.

 

**WEEK TWO:**

Wash was starting to get used to the three men walking down his check out with the items being set on the belt. It took three days since the first time until he started cracking jokes at the objects though they should make him question what exactly they were trying to prove. He _knew_ this game—that “freak your cashier out” thing that was circling around the internet for awhile.

A few of the clusters that he’s seen were:

  *          Lube, a funnel, latex gloves
  *          Lotion, Kleenex, a teletubbies DVD
  *          Duck tape, a carving knife, large condoms
  *          Laxatives, chocolate cake mix, a birthday card
  *          Yoga DVD, lube, a broom



Wash chuckled, shaking his head and giving the regular sized condoms a shake. “Who’s these ones for?” and the two taller men pointed to the smaller man standing between them. Wash shook his head, fighting the grin from his lips as he set the box in the bag and reached for the next item. A large bag of candy was next and Wash narrowed his eyes at it, attempting to make a connection to it. He set that in the bag and grabbed the next Lego set next. “Oh my god,” he whispered under his breath, shaking his head and scanning the item before adding that one as well into their bag.

“You know there are better ways,” Washington brushed the hair back from his brow eyeing the three men in front of him as the smallest began to pay for the three objects.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the smallest man replied, pierced brow raising.

 

**WEEK THREE:**

They cornered him when he was leaving class with Church and Grif at his heels. For once he beat _both_ of them out of that lecture and the joyous feeling quickly turned sour when tall, tattooed and muscular took him by the back of the shirt and led him towards where Locus and Felix were lounging.

“Here’s the thing Lavernius,” Felix started, twirling his finger in a circular motion. “I’m gonna need his schedule again—also maybe just throw in his snap chat too.” Grif and Church slowly make their way towards the group, their hackles raised before they could even hear the conversation.

“These guys bothering you, Tucker?” Church glared at the man with his arm thrown over the Tucker’s shoulder. The man in question raised his brow, daring him to make a move. Grif eyed both seated men and his eyes widened.

“Fucking hell I thought when we graduated we ditched you two,” his nose scrunched up when Felix grinned, and only continued to grin all the wider as he stood to take in the two before him.

“Well looks like High School buddies all gathered again,” he spread his arms out, “happy High School reunion!” His grin slipped off into a snarl as he glanced between Grif and Church, finally returning to something a little more... smug when he turned his attention back to Tucker. “This isn’t about you and I, it’s about Wash and unfortunately you’re his roommate so you’re the most logical choice—after CT who’s in France for a semester and Girlie who... through situations in which I had _no part in_ refuses to assist unless _I_ , who has done nothing wrong, declare a very public and formal apology for dying her prized hair indigo.”

The light in both Church and Grif’s eyes dimmed as they took in the three men gathered around Tucker, piecing together and making assumptions when needed. _These three where Wash’s type alright,_ and Church wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at the thought of what Wash would get these three to do when they started _really_ chasing his tail. Tall, Tattooed and Muscular handed Tucker his phone and the man slowly entered the things in that they wished. Tucker handed it back to the man still relaxing against him like he was one of his old friends only to have the phone plucked away by _Locus_ who was quickly making his get away without an added word.

The man patted Tucker’s shoulder, “thanks for that. Ignore Felix; I’m in the process of kicking the douchebag out of him.”

Tucker snorted, “You’re going to do a lot of kicking, he was probably born a douche!”

 

**WEEK FOUR:**

Wash was getting sick of it now that he was sending snap chats to the three of them daily and waiting for _one of them_ to make a move. They were biting, giving up that damn Wal-Mart Check-Out game after Wash had told them to stop wasting their money— _drop off dinner or something instead if you want to spend money_. Locus would walk in, find him with a Tupperware of homemade food and leave before the blush crept up to his ears.

Sweeping the towel up over his dripping wet hair, toweling around the drops, Wash got a horrible— _horrible, terrible_ idea. Unplugging his phone from the mini-speaker they had in their little bathroom then wrapping a towel around his waist, Wash opened up his phone and swiped through the apps until a yellow and white one stood out.

He opened it, holding up his phone and pursing his lips before taking the picture. **First one @ door gets to fuck me**. He sent it, and then dropped the towel and taking a picture of his back and ass in the mirror with his dorm number.

Terrence returned with a picture of himself in bed, frown large and dramatic in the light of his computer and phone—Wash forgot that he lived off campus, he’d go visit him next to make up for it.

He only needs to wait three minutes before there’s a knock on his door and Wash throws open the bathroom door, ignoring Tucker’s ‘ _oh my God but some clothes on_ ’ and pulling open the front door in the same towel he sent the first picture in. He smiled at Locus’ ruffled appearance, his hair a mess like he’s run his fingers through it too many times.

Wash grins at him, accepting and meeting him halfway in their first kiss—backing up, leading him into the dorm room for the door to close heavily behind him. Locus slips his shoes off at the door, following behind him as Wash takes his hand in his and tugs him along to his room. Past a horrified Tucker who stared at the pair with his headphone sitting around his neck, laptop open with a nearly blank document as he _attempted_ to make process in his essay for class on that damn bistro table they had in the kitchen. It wasn’t working.

Wash mouthed at him, middle and thumb positioned around an invisible knob that he was turning up— _turn up your volume_. Tucker groaned, covering his ears with his headphones and cranking the volume of his music as the blond’s door closed behind him and his nearly naked ass self.

Locus tossed his shirt towards the desk, raising his brow as Wash visibly takes the man in with a grin pulling at his lips. The blond thumbs the knot around his waist, the towel slipping from his hips as closed the distance between them. “So how did you beat Felix here? I thought the two of you were roommates,” he pushed the taller man back into his bed, his body bouncing upon impact and Wash couldn’t help but mirror the smirk.

“I duck taped his ankles together,” was all he answered before Wash crawled up his body pressing kisses to his stomach, his chest and neck before pressing their lips together again. His hands found Washington’s ass, grabbing each cheek and pulling him in closer. Wash slipped his phone out of Locus’ pocket opening it to the camera, “what are you doing?”

He kissed him, snapping a picture of it. “Giving you something to remember late at night—when it’s just _you and your hand_ , when I can’t keep you company.” Locus rolled them over, catching his wrists in his and pinning it to the bed. “I’m giving you permission to take pictures of me—videos too, whatever you want. Show them to Terrence and Felix, give them something to get jealous over,” he pulled at Locus’ bottom lip, sucking and biting. “I mean... I’ll get to them _eventually_ , but you got here _first_.”

Locus moaned at the sound of that; _he got there first_. He beat both Terrence and Felix to the punch, got first taste of the blond before Felix could get his greedy fingers all over him. “You’re playing a _dangerous_ game,” he purred out, sliding his hands down Washington’s arms, down his chest and avoiding his hardening cock to push himself up and work himself out of his pants.

Wash stared up at him with eyes half-lidded, licking at his lips as he handed the man’s phone back to him. Tucking an arm behind his head and gripping his cock with the other, Wash smiled pretty when the phone was raised and sound of the camera going off reached his ears. He _glowed_ under the attention, stroking himself slowing as Locus took his sweet ass time kicking off his clothes.

He loved the moment when his hand was batted away and the phone was dropped back to the bed for him to grab. He took pictures of the man grinding against him, their cocks sliding against each other. Locus kissed his neck, sucking marks to the flesh and Wash moaned—more pictures; pictures of sloppy kisses and hickeys, of Locus gripping the back of Wash’s hair as he pulled his head back.

He wasn’t a quiet lover, he was open in what he liked and didn’t—Locus could press the right buttons, he could find them easy enough too.  

Locus was... he was _something_ —all mouth and hands, grabbing and pulling him closer and holding him tighter. He fucked him close, with his mouth constantly pressed to a part of Wash’s body—when he was on his knees taking pictures of Locus fucking him from behind, Locus’ lips pressed to the back of his neck and watched his face in the screen.

His hair falling from his ponytail—after the half an hour spent with their legs tangled together and Wash’s fingers mapping every bump and ridge on his face. Locus kissed his fingers, kissing his lips, kissing the lids of his eyes before rolling Wash over onto his back and taking Washington for the second time.

“Will you stay for breakfast?” Wash inquired, curling up in the man’s arms—smile threatening to give him away. He knew he had him—had all three of them already; it was only a matter of time before he got them to kiss him out in the rain and talk to him on the phone for hours each night. He almost felt like laughing when Locus agreed.

Wash was going to make a love-stuck sap out of him.

 

**TWO DAYS LATER:**

Wash caught him while he's picking up his friends at the front of the main building. It was a later night, classes running from 9:25AM-5:55PM with an hour here and there between. Jogging up to the car, Washington taps on the window. "Is there room for one more?" he inquires leaning in with his arms folded on the roof of the car, easily falling into a mask of ease—content. Terrence's eyes narrow; _are they thinking the same thing here or_... Wash pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, "maybe show me your bed, make up for the other night."

Terrence pulled away, eyes widening as the information settled in. Turning to the person riding shotgun, "sit in the back." But it’s Sniper and he has long-ass legs—quickly voicing his rejection of the idea and points out the fact that both Girlie and Manly are currently in the backseat, Girlie refuses to sit in the middle and Manly takes up a lot of room. Their eyes narrow at each other as a silent conversation quickly falls around them.

"No no, I'll sit in the back its fine."

 Manly gets out and let’s Wash in the middle with a sweep of his hand, Wash chuckles at the action as he crawling into the vehicle and settles in. Girlie glances between Terrence and Wash, blond eyebrow raised and silently inquiring about the arrival of the new blond while Manly checks him out.

Sniper stabs a finger into the power button and the sheer volume mixed with the piercing guitar rift makes Wash flinch. “Turn that shit down or switch it over to something else!” Girlie shouts, grinning when not only Sniper turns the volume down he also switches it to a pop station.

“You’re all fucking garbage—driver should set the tunes and the rest of you assholes should just shut up,” Terrence huffed, speeding out onto the road and merging with traffic. He wasn’t close to one of the worst drivers that Wash had the _pleasure_ of being ferried by—not even the one with the loudest radio. Maine had his radio cranked and they’d laugh at the looks of horror they’d get as they speed past.

It was uneventful, the drive over to his townhouse he shared with his friends. Girlie was listening to the music while Manly dozed in and out with his head against the window. The townhouse they pulled up to was nice, close enough to campus that it was only a ten minute bus ride (a longer walk though). Wash remembers Terrence mentioning the fact that he rooming with a bunch of people—turned the attic into a bedroom and the basement was able to be fashioned into two other bedrooms and a bathroom.

Terrence grabs his arm as soon as his freed from the vehicle, spinning him towards the closed driver’s door and trapping him between metal and flesh—Terrence seals their lips together, cupping his jaw and pressing further against him. “You’ve been pushy lately,” the dark haired man voiced as he pulled away from the kiss, thumb wiping away the spit shining on Washington’s bottom lip.

The corners of Wash’s lips tug up into a barest of smiles. “I know what I want,” he answered following the man forward as he steps back, “and I know how to get it.” Terrence’s brow disappears into his bangs as he waits for the punch line, that line that gives Wash away. He grips the man’s collar and presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, “I want you. I want you just as much as you want me.”

He’d give the man points for laughing; give him points for pressing their lips together for a brief tender peck. “I don’t think you understand _just_ how much I want you,” he replied, cupping Washington’s cheek.

Terrence was sweet, much like Locus. He made him a homemade dinner and they shared a large plate of it when they found out that one of Terrence’s roommates had a fight with another and they ended up breaking most of the plates. It was spent stealing bits of food from the other’s fork and pressing shy kisses to each other’s cheeks.

When Terrence took his hand, leading him up the stairs while Girlie whistled and catcalled at them from the couch, his stomach awoke with butterflies. An excitement breaking out over him as he followed the man up to the second floor and then into the room their landlord made out of the attic, he followed him into his room and took a seat on his bed as he closed the door behind him. “We don’t have to do anything,” he explained in that overly gentle voice of his, which it would dip into when he wanted someone to understand his point.

Wash shook his head, standing and wrapping an arm around the man’s neck. “None of that,” he grinned, pressing his lips to the other. Coaxing Terrence into tipping him back into his large unmade bed, shifting up and into the center and shedding clothes along with way. “Just you and me and this bed,” Washington purred, voice catching when the man gripped his cock and stroked it.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not letting Felix see what I’m about to do to you.”

 

**FOUR DAYS LATER:**

Felix had a habit of being everywhere, of _getting in anywhere_. Tucker hated him. Hated how he’d show up out of the blue and just ruin Tucker’s day by even _noticing_ him. Yet, here he was sitting in front of his door with a textbook cracked open and seated comfortably—it looks like he’s been there for awhile.

“You,” Tucker hissed slipping his cardkey from his wallet and nudging the man away from his door. “Wash isn’t here, isn’t going to be back for another two hours.” Felix slips his arm through the strap of his bag, following closely behind and snaking his way through the door before Tucker could slam it in his face.

“I’m surprising him,” he explained tossing his checkered Vans into the pile of Tucker and Wash’s collection of shoes (mostly Tucker’s collection actually, he loved his Nikes and the Vans were quite comfy). He pushed open the door with the whiteboard and corkboard pinned to it—pictures of Wash and his friends, Wash and the three of them ( _that_ was new, Tucker doesn’t remember seeing that picture pinned up on the board last week), and his cats back home.

Tucker could only watch him slip into Washington’s room, watching the door click shut behind him.

He was quiet the whole two hours he spent waiting for the blond, so quiet in fact that Tucker had forgotten about him until Wash returned and pushed open his door. “Why is Felix sleeping in my bed?” he leaned against Tucker’s doorframe casually, like his body was just so familiarized with the motion that it’s become his resting position.

Tucker shrugged “surprise?”

In his opinion, Wash handles walking into his room to find a man half naked in his bed and sound asleep surprisingly well. If he hadn’t already roomed with Wash the year prior and _seen_ the guys the blond would bring home for a one night stand, Tucker would’ve been concerned. But, well, this was _Washington_. Dude chewed boys like Felix up like a snack!

 

**A MONTH LATER:**

Tucker stared at his roommate sitting across from him setting his phone on the table between them. “I don’t get it, I thought you _ruined_ guys—that’s the rumor. You get them to kiss the very ground you walk on and all that bullshit,” he stacked his garbage and pushed it away giving him room to lean towards him.

Wash mouth opened, clicked closed as he stared. “No. I don’t _fuck with people’s emotions_ , Tucker.” His jaw clenched, huffing at the fact that he was going to have to _try_ to explain what happens when he _dates_ guys like this—how he knows their behaviour and he refuses to fall into their trap. “What I do is I don’t _glorify_ the kind treatment that they’d show me. I don’t pat their head and coo over the fact that these so called ‘bad boys’ are treating me like a decent human being because that’s what they want—they show me how _sweet and kind_ they can be only to flaunt it afterwards when they pull the whole ‘ _we’re moving too fast, I think you’re getting too attached and I can’t deal with that_ ’ card.”

Tucker’s eyes squint, waiting for him to go on—to bring up _the point_. And there is, there’s a whole point to his story—this _game_ that people label it as.

He knows what he’s getting at though, “Locus is honestly a good person with no hidden motives behind his treatment—he isn’t looking for that pat on the head and the hint that I’m falling for a trap. He’s doing everything because he’s honestly interested in _me_ and my _feelings_. Terrence is like that for the most part, falling back into a panic when he feels that it’s too much. The only thing he’s concerned about is getting too attached—scared because of something that happened; maybe it’s just that he doesn’t know what to think of _me_.”

Washington _gets it_. He gets the whole roundabout way that he needs to go and do things. He isn’t the proudest of what he’s had to learn to do—what he’s done for his own self interest.

Wash slams the textbook he’s reading shut and packs it up in his bag, “in high school, back in freshmen year I was the ‘ _gay thing_ ’ that the older guys on the football team tried out. Thought some of them liked me, so I hung around and—well, I _liked them_. I didn’t think that they’d ever like me ‘cause of the whole ‘high school football guys’ and their whole ‘fragile masculinity’. But I guess the whole _fuck with the gay freshman_ was enough to get them to forget about that for a bit—I was passed around the football team like a cheap whore and the school laughed at me for thinking that _the queer_ had scored himself a jock.” He ground his teeth together, “just another notch on their bedpost.”

His gray-blue eyes locked with Tucker’s bright blue, “there’s one thing that I learned though from all that—after moving schools the next year and starting over. I know how to handle guys like that.” Tucker leaned in closer, folding his arms on the table as he listened on. “Get them thinking that _they’re_ just the notch on _your_ bedpost—they’re not fond of that, not if they’re putting all the work in to get you too fall for them. They’ll go on to fight you, try to gain back control—maybe bigger and more dramatic acts of compassion or kindness, get you to _really_ fall for them.”

He slid his phone over towards himself and held up the text message waiting for him. A **_we need to talk_** , was waiting for him from Felix. He wiggled the device in his hand. “Felix wants me to fall for him but doesn’t want the commitment afterwards. I haven’t done anything but sleep with them, go out on dates and been affectionate. Guys like Felix pull this conversation and go onto say ‘ _I think you’re getting too attached and I don’t want to hurt you, so I think this should end’_ but then the real... game, I guess you’ll call it, is afterwards if they come back or not. Some do, some don’t.”

He shrugs as he stands, pulling all his books and bag with him. Gathering his garbage and phone—he frowns at the message that lights up again as a notification. “I don’t play with people’s emotions, Tucker. I just make sure mine don’t get damaged anymore than they already are.”

 

**THREE DAYS LATER:**

It’s interesting, watching how Locus curls around him—how he cups his cheek and brushes his hair back from his face. It’s almost sickening in how much Felix wants to punch him for bringing Wash up to their room for the night. How was Washington supposed to come groveling to him and beg for his affection when Locus was showing him with his? How was he supposed to _tame_ David Washington if Terrence would threaten him with harm if he played his little games with the blond?

Felix rolled his eyes licking his middle finger and flipping to the next page in his textbook just as the couple started kissing—‘cause that’s exactly what Washington and Locus were, hell even Wash and Terrence were together. “Go fuck in Wash’s room, we don’t have the luxury of separate rooms shithead,” he wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a tone other than _bored_.

He wouldn’t get jealous about anything. He wouldn’t. Not when Washington sighed and voiced that he should just leave, that he didn’t want to cause problems only for Locus to roll over him and pin him to his tiny bed and begin to kiss his passionately—Felix could hear their tongues sliding together, their moans and the creak of the bed as Locus pressed between the blond’s thighs.

Felix slammed his textbook closed, threw it in his bag and gathered his shit. “Fuck you and your stupid bullshit, I’m crashing with Jackson and Zack,” he wouldn’t be bitter, wouldn’t catch their gaze as they pulled away to watch him leave and slam the door behind him.

It wasn’t working the way he wanted it to. It wasn’t anywhere close to where he wanted it—he didn’t _want_ to be the one going back and peppering kisses to Wash’s jaw and asking him to take him back, that _he_ made the mistake. He cursed, pulling out his phone and texting Zack and informing him that him that they were spooning tonight—or Zack and Jackson were going to be sleeping together. Felix wasn’t going to sleep on the fucking floor.

 _Fuck_ that!

 

**FIVE DAYS LATER:**

He did just that.

He looked like fucking shit—his hair tangled and sticking all which way and the other. He had been up late finishing two readings and trying to figure out just want to do. Throwing balled up papers at Locus’ head until the man snapped and Felix could finally pick his best friend’s head—could have his best friend back again.

Felix bit the inside of his cheek and slid into the booth that Tucker, Grif, Simmons and Church inhabited along with Washington. He slid in beside Wash, pressed close as he pressed kisses to the man’s cheek and jaw. “David... David I fucked up,” he whispered, pressing his head to the blond’s temple.

Washington pulled a miniature carrot from a baggy and dipped it in salad dressing, all without looking up from the notes he was going over. “You know I’m dating both Locus and Terrence,” Felix nodded, “you’re aware you only get one chance, right?” Again Felix nodded, pressing uncharacteristically soft kisses to the man’s cheek and jaw.

Washington checked the phone beside his bag of carrots, noting the time and day before finally snapping off a piece of the orange vegetable. “Have you eaten?” he held the half eaten carrot towards Felix who was quick to pluck it from his fingers, tongue swirling around Wash’s finger as he took it. “You should be in class too, sweetheart.”

Felix sighed, leaning away finally now that his nicknames were back—those little pet names of endearment that he hated admitting that his missed. “Needed to clear this up before I went in,” he admitted, leaning in puckering his lips for a kiss.

Wash huffed, pressing the barest hint of a peck to his lips before usher the man out of the booth. “Go to class slacker, you have a midterm for it in two days—go. _Go!_ ” he waved his finger when Felix hesitated, pointing towards the door and repeating the two letter word with a snap of his fingers until he turned and jogged away.

The others in the booth staring in awe at the scene that they just witnessed.

“ ** _How the_** _fuck **?!**_ ”

David Washington winked, the tip of his tongue peeking between his pearly whites as he smiled.


End file.
